


Apollo

by abundantlyqueer



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-11
Updated: 2007-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abundantlyqueer/pseuds/abundantlyqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Orlando's an art student and Elijah's looking to make a few bucks as an artists' model. Pornography ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apollo

**Author's Note:**

> ew/ob, pornographic, au.

  
"What's your name?" Orlando asks, his attention on securing the big sketch pad to his easel and sorting out the contents of half a dozen different pencil boxes and charcoal tins.  
"Elijah. Elijah Wood."  
"You're American," Orlando says, tightening the screws on the easel to fix it at his preferred angle.  
"Yeah," Elijah grins, exposing the gap between his top front teeth.  
"How do you like London?"  
"It's – cold," Elijah says apologetically. "I'm from California."  
"Well, I keep it warm in here."  
"Yeah, it's nice."  
They look at each other.  
"So – do you want to do this?" Orlando asks. "No hard feelings if you've changed your mind."  
" _No_ , no – I mean - _yes_. I mean – I haven't changed my mind. I'm not supposed to work on a student visa, really, but – I could use the money. So – yes – I want to do this."  
"Okay, well … you can take your things off over there," Orlando says, lifting his chin to indicate a twin bed half hidden behind a faded fabric screen.  
Elijah nods and turns away. Orlando watches him walk across the room, slipping his pea coat off as he goes. He lays it down on the bed, and palms the knit cap off his head. He shakes out the waves of his brown hair until they fall around the nape of his neck. Orlando looks away abruptly, clattering pencils into the channel along the front of the easel.  
Elijah drops his hat on top of his coat. He pulls his sweater off, and then the layered tee-shirts he's wearing underneath. Orlando finds himself staring at Elijah's bare back, at his paper-white skin and the delicate wings of his shoulder blades. Elijah stoops, his narrow haunches curving the dark denim of his jeans. He tugs open the laces of his boots and heels them off carefully. He peels his socks off, wriggling his bare toes on the warm wooden floor. He turns, his hands on the buttons of his fly.  
Orlando drops his eyes. The sound of brass buttons popping out of their buttonholes, and the wipe of stiff denim on soft skin seems unnaturally loud. Orlando digs his thumbnail into an eraser. When he looks up again, Elijah is stripped except for a pair of voluminous blue-checked boxer shorts. His body is very slight, and smooth, but with each muscle subtly defined under taut skin.  
"Do I – um - "  
"It's better if you take them off now," Orlando says. "Get it over with, yeah?"  
He smiles. Elijah smiles back, blushing deeply on his cheekbones and chest.  
"Okay."  
He wriggles the garment off, throws it on the bed.  
"Come over here," Orlando says, gesturing to the low platform against one wall.  
Elijah walks to him. Orlando fusses with the placement of a tall narrow plinth on the platform.  
"You stand … here … "  
Elijah steps up. Orlando takes him by the shoulders, turning him to best advantage under the skylight. Orlando's hands are large and olive-dark against Elijah's small bones and pale skin.  
"You've got a great face," Orlando says, guiding the turn of Elijah's head with one finger under Elijah's chin.  
Elijah smiles shyly.  
"Great hair, too," Orlando says, ruffling his hand in Elijah's waves so they tumble forwards onto his forehead. "I know exactly what I want to do with you."  
Elijah blushes even redder and ducks his head.  
"Uh uh, head up," Orlando says gently, lifting Elijah's chin with his fingertips.  
Elijah locks eyes with him. Orlando's smile flickers. He turns away, pulling a soft gray drape down from where it's hanging on an exposed rafter. He turns back.  
He arranges the cloth around Elijah's shoulders, knotted on one side and swept back on the other. His fingertips graze Elijah's chest as he smoothes the folds into place; Elijah quivers.  
"You cold?" Orlando asks anxiously. "I can crank the heat up some more."  
"No, it's - "  
"No, seriously, it's impossible to stay still if you're cold."  
Orlando crosses to the thermostat on the wall and fiddles with it.  
"Won't you be too hot?" Elijah asks.  
"Not if you don't mind me pulling this off," Orlando says, plucking at the short sleeved white tee shirt he's wearing. "Do you?"  
"Oh. No," Elijah says. "No … not at all."  
Orlando strips his tee shirt off over his head. His skin is olive-gold all over, with a faint pink flush of sunburn on the tips of his shoulders. He tosses his tee shirt aside, shoves a pencil behind one ear and an eraser into the watch pocket of his jeans, and takes another pencil in his hand. He rocks back on his heels, his head tilted to one side as he considers his subject.  
Elijah shifts one hip restlessly.  
"Stay still," Orlando says, tilting his head to the other side for a new perspective.  
He squares up to the easel, pencil outstretched, eyes narrowed. He turns the shaft of his pencil through ninety-degrees, making the muscles at the back of his arm twist under his skin.  
Elijah jumps.  
"Are you okay?" Orlando says anxiously, stepping from behind the easel again.  
"Yes."  
Orlando steps closer, frowning.  
"Are you sure? Are you feeling - "  
"No – yes – I'm fine," Elijah says sharply.  
"Okay. You just seem - "  
"Well I'm not. It's fine. It's cool."  
Elijah stares at Orlando, his breathing deep and very deliberate. Orlando glances down; Elijah flinches and twists away. Orlando registers the sway of Elijah's cock, springy and supple, more than half hard.  
"Fuck," Elijah says, his face turning red enough to make his eyes even more shockingly blue by contrast. "I'm sorry – I don't even – I just -"  
"It's okay," Orlando says, catching Elijah by the wrist and drawing him back. "It happens to models. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."  
Elijah looks at him from the corners of his eyes.  
"Does it happen – to artists? Does it happen – to you?"  
Orlando tilts back slightly.  
"Um … sure. Sometimes … "  
Elijah drops his gaze again.  
Orlando's erection is straining the already frayed and ragged denim at the crotch of his jeans.  
"Um … see? It's … it's nothing."  
"Nothing?" Elijah whispers.  
"Well it's – not about sex," Orlando says.  
He's leaning over Elijah so closely that the soft cloth of the drape is brushing against his bare chest.  
"It's … it's about art," Orlando says, "and … beauty … and … seeing things as … "  
" … as what?" Elijah breathes, when the next word doesn't materialize on Orlando's parted lips.  
" … as lines … and … planes … and … curves," Orlando says, his gaze moving from Elijah's brows, down Elijah's nose, to Elijah's open mouth.  
Elijah's breathing hard, his slender little chest rising and falling sharply. Orlando lifts one hand, fumbles the drape on Elijah's shoulder, and touches Elijah's arm. Elijah's eyes flicker, and he opens his mouth wider.  
"Jesus you're so sexy it's un-fucking-real," Orlando blurts.  
They're already kissing, their mouths smearing together as they stumble and then cling to each other.  
"Jesus, Jesus," Orlando mumbles against Elijah's lips.  
He digs his fingers into Elijah's hair, tipping Elijah's face and eating his mouth. Elijah pulls at Orlando, catching him at the shoulders and ribs and waist, pulling him in, fiercely impatient with the difference in their heights that prevents them pressing hips to hips.  
"Lie – lie down?" Elijah gasps. "The bed?"  
"Hnn … mm … yeah, the bed," Orlando says, with his mouth half-full of Elijah's cheekbone. "Here – this – umm - "  
They manage to separate enough to pull the drape back off over Elijah's head, and then they're shuffling awkwardly – wound around each other again – towards the narrow bed behind the screen.  
"Please, I want – I want - " Elijah says breathlessly, as they blunder down onto the mattress, still wrapped around each other.  
"Jesus, yeah, anything," Orlando says, "anything you want."  
Elijah writhes, half-under Orlando.  
"I want – you have a really beautiful mouth," Elijah says in a rush, blushing all over again.  
Orlando grins.  
"Yeah? Well, you have a really beautiful … "  
He strokes up the inside of Elijah's thigh, cups his balls, palms them gently. Elijah hitches his hips ruthlessly.  
"I'm – oh God – I'm so hard," Elijah says, "please … "  
Orlando slithers off the bed, onto his knees on the floor, kneeling between Elijah's thighs. Elijah claws at the dull cotton quilt covering the bed.  
"Yes yes yes, please … "  
"Jesus … "  
Elijah tips his head back and yells out loud when Orlando engulfs him, swallows him down from tip to root in one red-hot mouthful. Orlando lavishes his tongue around the short thick shaft in his mouth, bathing everything in spit. When everything's wet enough to just _slip_ , he starts working a quick cruel up and down with his lips ringed around Elijah's cock. Elijah stutters, shouts.  
"Fuck God yes _yes_ \- "  
Orlando's grinning around a mouthful of cock. He sleeks both hands up Elijah's body, up over sharp hipbones and soft stomach and smooth chest. Elijah thrusts roughly, pumping his cock in the easy depth of Orlando's mouth.  
"Fuck – God - _God_ \- "  
Orlando's hands draw circles and spirals and swirls on Elijah's chest, around his nipples and along his ribs. Elijah arches, his spine bowing upwards from the bed.  
"Fuck - "  
Orlando flicks a glance upwards, up along the heaving white curves of Elijah's body. He pleads with his hands, drawing his fingers down Elijah's ribs, down his belly, down between his thighs. Elijah shudders, his entire body rigid.  
" _Fuck_ \- "  
He lifts one thigh, squirming, his bare heel slipping on Orlando's hip as he struggles for purchase. Orlando slips one hand further down, between the clenched cheeks of Elijah's bottom, and slides the other one up, gripping the base of Elijah's cock.  
"Uh – mmm – I'm gonna – I'm gonna – fuck – fucking _God_ ," Elijah yells.  
He whiplashes, jerking his head up and then slamming it back down onto the bed. His heel digs into the soft side of Orlando's waist as he lifts himself up, up, the muscles of his slender thighs shaking as he  
 _comes_. His sudden unraveling has Orlando snorting around a mouthful of semen and softening cock.  
"Jesus – fuck – oh fuck," Elijah pants, both hands petting and patting at Orlando's hair in haphazard gratitude.  
Orlando sucks slowly along the length of Elijah's cock – soft and red now – and lets it drop wetly from his mouth. He swallows, and wipes his lips on the heel of his hand.  
Elijah scoops one hand back through the mess of his own hair, and grins.  
"That was fucking amazing," he pants.  
Orlando sits back on his heels, tipping his head back, riding out the buzzing beat of pleasure the movement jars in his groin. Elijah sits up, still gasping for breath, and slips off the edge of the bed to straddle Orlando's lap. He settles deliberately, grinding his bare bottom down on the crotch of Orlando's jeans.  
"Fuck, fuck you," Orlando breathes against Elijah's ear, "you're fucking gorgeous."  
"I want you," Elijah murmurs, reaching back with one hand to cup Orlando's balls through denim worn silky soft.  
"Oh God yeah."  
"What should I - ?"  
"You have a really fucking beautiful mouth too," Orlando says, twitching one eyebrow up.  
Elijah grins broadly. He shoves Orlando in the chest with both hands, overbalancing the two of them. Orlando sprawls on the floor with Elijah wriggling on top of him.  
"Fu - "  
Orlando's laughter is smothered in Elijah's mouth. Elijah slips both hands down Orlando's body, to the fly of Orlando's jeans.  
"Umph, fuck, yeah," Orlando says into Elijah's mouth.  
He gets his button open and his zip undone. Elijah's little hands are already cramming down between denim and cotton and, at a second attempt, down between cotton and skin. Orlando exhales hard.  
"God, you're so fucking sexy," Elijah says. "You're _all_ so fucking sexy."  
"What? Art students?"  
"English guys."  
"Glad you think so," Orlando laughs, as they get his jeans and his washed-out union jack bikini briefs down around his knees.  
Elijah straddles him on hands and elbows, sucking Orlando's cock up into his mouth and working evil twists and turns and pulls with his lips along the shaft, avoiding anything rhythmic enough to give Orlando a chance of relief.  
"Ah – Jesus – no – come on – do it," Orlando groans, the heels of his sneakers squeaking on the floor as he scrabbles for traction.  
Elijah flutters his tongue around the tip of Orlando's cock.  
"Jesus – Elijah - _Elijah please_ \- "  
Elijah beams, and drops his head, letting Orlando's cock plumb straight up into his mouth. He fists the middle of Orlando's shaft and pumps, a crazy off-rhythm counterpoint to the efficient pump of his mouth further up.  
"Jesus – the fuck - " Orlando snaps, his knees drawing up sharply enough to bump Elijah in the behind and tip him forward to swallow Orlando's cock down to the root.  
Elijah coughs slightly, Orlando gasps, and they find a beat they can both follow – short, deep, fast. Orlando fumbles at Elijah's shoulders.  
"Oh – Jesus – fuck – Jesus - _fuck_ \- "  
Orlando curls, head and shoulders off the floor, knees and thighs pushing Elijah forward so his nose is buried in Orlando's corrugated stomach and he can't breathe and Orlando roars  
"ah _fucking yeah_ \- "  
and he comes in rapid-fire shocks that have Elijah swallowing and spluttering and laughing as he collapses over the sprawl of Orlando's body.  
"Oh fuck," Orlando says. "Oh. Fuck."  
Elijah crawls up over him and covers Orlando's mouth with his. Orlando scoops his tongue around the inside of Elijah's cheeks.  
Orlando kicks his sneakers off, and between the two of them they peel Orlando's jeans and briefs the rest of the way off. He drums his heels, settling more comfortably on the bare floor boards. Elijah nuzzles down into the hollow between Orlando's shoulder and his chest.  
"You … wanna try again?" Elijah says after a minute.  
"Fuck yeah," Orlando laughs. "Just gimme a sec – I'm not an undergrad anymore."  
"I meant the drawing."  
"Nah, fuck it. I've been thinking about dropping this life-drawing class – Professor Mortensen gives me the shits, and I'm no good at it anyway. I'm gonna switch programs."  
"Yeah? To what?" Elijah asks.  
"Acting," Orlando says decisively. "It's easier, and I'm more of an action kind of bloke anyway."


End file.
